


Swine Flu

by thinkpink20



Category: British Comedian RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-27
Updated: 2012-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-31 19:58:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkpink20/pseuds/thinkpink20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David needs to stop biting his nails.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swine Flu

"Are you sure there's no one coming?"

"Yes David, I'm sure."

"Those were footsteps; I heard footsteps."

"No footsteps, just your dangerously high blood pressure levels."

"Oh.... shut up, Rob."

Which is a brave thing for David to say, given that he has a bottle of nail varnish in his hand and Rob could hold this over him for all time if he decided to.

"You're sure there's no one - "

"I'm sure, David; just get on with it."

Rob raises his eyebrows, tries not to make a cheap comedy comment about spanking, senses David isn't in the mood. 

The nail polish bottle makes a rattling noise as it sets down on the table, jarring against the wood in the quiet of the room from the shaking of David's hands. Rob watches him hold the brush awkwardly, swipe the clear, gloopy liquid over one nail then another.

"It doesn't work that stuff, you know."

"What makes you say that?" David asks, looking up. "And watch the door, not me."

Rob casts his eyes back to the corridor outside where David is paranoid Matt and Sam and Jesse and everyone else they work with will suddenly appear.

"Because Abi tried it once, she said it actually tasted nice."

David looks at the cosmetic little bottle in front of him. "It says, 'Stops nail biting on first application'."

"Well it's not going to say, 'Makes nail biting taste like a scrummy treat!' is it?"

David glances up again, finds Rob giving him that exasperated look that he tends to multiply by a hundred when he's being Jez and Mark has done something uncool. "The door," David says, considerably less afraid of that look than Mark is. Then when Rob doesn't speak again, "Anyway, it's my last option; I've tried everything else."

"Have you tried putting plasters on the ends of all your fingers?"

"I want to stop biting my nails, Rob, not look like particularly inexpert builder."

"Having an awful thought whenever you bring your hands to your mouth? Like a vision of dying in a car crash, or something?"

David sighs. "That's why I'm doing this bloody thing; every time I bring my hands to my mouth I see myself coughing out my last with bloody swine flu, you standing over my body weeping like a child."

Rob smiles, looks out into the corridor in order to hide it. "If you die of swine flu I'll have to grieve just the proper amount; enough for 'comedy partner' but not that much that I suggest 'secret lover'."

David visibly shivers. "Don't say, 'lover', Rob."

"Why?"

"Because 'lover' suggests I'm good in bed and that we spend all our time together rolling over one another like silk."

Rob smiles again. "But you are good in bed."

"You're saying this to a man who is applying nail polish?" But it's okay, because now David is smiling too.

Rob goes back to looking out into the corridor. For a few minutes there is nothing but the sound of the tiny bottle being placed repeatedly down on the table.

"Anyway," Rob eventually says, "You catch it by people coughing on you."

"The government information leaflet said - "

"You _read_ that?"

If David is embarrassed, he doesn't betray it. "I'm just trying to cover myself from as many angles as I can, that's all. Besides, I've needed to stop biting my nails for years; it's a disgusting habit."

Sweeping the little sticky brush over his final unpainted nail and then giving his hands an obligatory yet useless shake, David stands up. "Right, I'm finished, let's get out of here."

Rob gives one last glance to the empty corridor and then shuts the door, leaning casually back against it. "That's all you've got to say? We're alone in some hidden room somewhere and all you've got to say is, 'Let's get out of here'?"

David - who is surreptitiously still trying to waggle his fingers to dry his nails - looks up, slightly cornered. "My mind's still stuck on swine flu and this worrying new sign of my latent transvestism."

"Fool," Rob says, affectionately. 

"Arse," David manages to reply - with equal warmth - before Rob distracts him by pulling the neck of his slightly open Mark Corrigan work shirt aside and leaving a damp, gentle kiss on the warm patch of skin just below his jaw. He shivers, eyes fluttering closed.

"I like that," David says.

Rob smiles. "I know." Then he kisses him properly, tries not to grin against the lips on his when David pushes him back against the door perhaps a little too forcefully and breaks the kiss briefly to whisper,

"Sorry."

He's still getting used to the fact that actually, in bed, David can be quite sure of what he wants. He tops from the bottom (which is an expression Rob read on the internet and didn't quite understand until the first time they shared a nervous, shaky - and unplanned - hand job in David's kitchen). Suddenly then everything had dropped into place; a phrase that never made sense suddenly came to life and Rob got yet another example of the dichotomy of David's nature. 

As he slips a hand into the back pocket of David's - Mark's - jeans to pull him closer, Rob feels the familiar slide of a hand against his free one and ignores the still damp nails to grab onto it. This is something new, too; Rob has kissed many people in his life but David is the only person he's ever met who holds his hand whilst he kisses him. The first time it happened, Rob broke the kiss because he thought perhaps David was trying to lead him somewhere in a seductive manner and the second time it happened he found himself thinking it was mildly odd. But now he's almost used to it. 

When he kisses Abi, he even finds himself missing it.

Rob squeezes David's hand once, gets a squeeze in return and is just about to assault David's neck again (is wondering secretly if perhaps he can get him to whimper the way he did the last time Rob discovered this weakness) when the distance voice of Matt calling the both of them filters through the door.

Rob stops, leans against David in a slightly defeated way; all sorts of plans had started forming in his mind.

"Oh shit," David says, and Rob thinks he knows exactly how he feels until - "You've smudged my nail polish!"


End file.
